As a wee boy
Daddy used to gallop along
on his imaginary horse,
wearing an imaginary hat,
slapping his thigh
as he rode along.
He was a cowboy!

Along William Street
and around the Derry Walls
he would gallop,
occasionally pointing
his imaginary gun
to shoot baddies –
“Bang, bang! You’re dead!”

Don’t they say
“show me the child at seven
and I’ll show you the man”?
Well, Daddy never grew out
of cowboys
and, even at the ripe old age of 91,
he would occasionally take
a sideways gallop
down the corridor
while singing The Lone Ranger song.

But even the best cowboy
sometimes comes off his horse
and Daddy came tumbling down,
mid-gallop.

A few minutes later,
there he stood –
puzzled, crest-fallen
and nursing a very sore finger.

Poor Daddy!

Gentle (and somewhat bemused)
doctors and nurses
patched up Daddy’s finger
(ouch!)
and Daddy was dispatched back home
in a taxi.

No cowboy-gallops in the corridor
this time!

Thank You, Lord,
for looking after Daddy.
Thank You for strong bones
that withstood such a fall.
Thank You for a caring doctor
who fixed Daddy’s finger
with special tape and glue,
taking time to listen to Daddy
as he jollied him along
to distract him
from the pain.

Thank You for caring taxi drivers
who made us feel
that Daddy was more
than simply another fare.

This morning,
Daddy is, once again,
bright as a button,
despite his aches and pains.
And although I have a sneaking suspicion
that his cowboy days are over,
Daddy seems to be very contented
(sure doesn’t he have
a real shiner of a black eye
to show off to his friends?)

© Claire Murray, 10th April 2025

It’s Lent, and this year
Paul and I are making a visit
to the chapel every week
for about half an hour
to spend time in prayer
before the tabernacle.

Warm air greets us
as we push open the door
(it’s cosy in here!)

Once we’re kneeling in our seat
I look at the sanctuary.
Along the back wall,
slap-bang in the middle,
is a golden tabernacle.
A massive crucifix
hangs above it.

My eyes are drawn up
to the crucifix
and one word comes to mind –
Jesus.
My eyes are then drawn
to the tabernacle
and, again, one word comes to mind –
Jesus.
My eyes flick up to the crucifix –
Jesus
and back down to the tabernacle –
Jesus.

I look up – Jesus
and I look down – Jesus.
Somehow, I can’t take my eyes away
from the crucifix and the tabernacle –
Jesus … Jesus,
Jesus … Jesus.

Jesus is really here,
in this tabernacle,
in the form of a tiny wafer,
the size of a fifty-pence piece.
Isn’t that just awesome?
(and I mean that literally!)

I find myself wondering …
I came here today
with the attitude
that I was almost doing God a favour
by coming here.
But I can’t help feeling
that I got this oh, so wrong.
it’s Jesus, Almighty God,
who is doing me a favour
by always being present
here, in the tabernacle –
always present here
for me.

And as we leave the chapel
some time later,
I find that I’m already looking forward
to making our next visit.

© Claire Murray, 18th March 2025